


Light Fractures

by Khirs



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/F, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:13:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9191876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khirs/pseuds/Khirs
Summary: She told Erin she was in love with her, and Erin left before she woke up.Like she hadn’t yielded under Jillian’s awe-struck hands in the early hours of the morning, hadn’t sighed under her body or tangled her fingers in Jillian’s hair when she pressed loving kisses against her thighs. Like she hadn’t taken her hands and coaxed her apart until Holtz became Jillian, vulnerable and naked and nervous in front of a woman like she’d never quite been before. Like she hadn’t touched Jillian like she was beautiful, loved, safe. Like she hadn’t whispered “I love you” in the dim glow of the moon a small Jillian had built with her grandfather. Like nothing happened and she hadn’t left.





	1. You Put a Good Hurt on Me

**Author's Note:**

> Dear whoever is reading this, I'm sorry. I love angst; I live for angst. I love Holtzbert. I love angsty slow burn Holtzbert. I hope you at least find some moments of enjoyment out of this.
> 
> On the name back and forth thing, I like thinking Holtz is who she is in the lab, in public, being an all around badass, but in the quiet vulnerable moments she's Jillian, all soft edges and warmth.
> 
> Now. All aboard the Angst Bus!

She blearily opened her eyes, fingers outstretched reaching for a ghost. Alone. Of course. She twisted to grab her glasses off the nightstand and fought back the hurt burning in her chest. Last night could have been a dream if it weren’t for the light scent of coconut lingering on her sheets. The stubborn sun slunk through the curtains. It fell in golden rays in the empty space; she turned to stare up at the ceiling.

What had she done?

The clock chimed a quiet 8 am. Four hours of sleep, something she generally could function off of and function well, but not today. Her stomach felt heavy and empty at the same time. Every breath felt painful. Erin knew. Erin knew and she left anyway.

*

_“Holtz,” Erin whispered, her name a warm breath exhaled against her lips._

_“Jillian now,” she corrected, “for you.”_

_She took Erin’s hand and put it over her pounding heart. Her eyes found hers, wide and full of wonderment, as Erin brought her other hand to cradle her cheek. Holtz leaned into her palm. If she was the type to cry, she would cry at this moment. It was all too beautiful. Stained glass in the light of an innocent sunrise._ Fragile.

_“Erin,” she began in a gravelly voice. Did she understand what Holtz was trying to say?_

_Erin brought Holtz’s hand to rest against her own thundering heartbeat. “I know.”_

_Suddenly she was Jillian, now floating through the heady moment of softness and warmth. She could leave Holtz behind in the lab with the science. Jillian was there with Erin in her bedroom and Erin’s hot hands resting on her hips watching her eyes carefully._

_The moment stretched out in endless possibilities. Two mugs of coffee in the morning, lazy days with Erin scrolling through her emails on her phone naked in her bed beside her. Jillian cooking dinner for two, Erin bringing two bottles of sweet wine just in case. Hot chocolate. Snow days. Quiet days. Car rides._

_A tentative brush of the lips. The world around them ignited and crumbled, and they made love in its remains until Holtz curled into Erin’s side. She breathed her in, memorized the angles of her face. Her fingertips ghosted over collarbones, the soft skin of her neck, her ribs, her hip._

_When Erin kissed her forehead, fingers lovingly running through blonde tresses, the tears came. Tiny rivulets Erin caught with her fingers, her lips, and whispered soft words in her ear._ You’re okay, love. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here. _Jillian fell asleep to the steady sound of her heartbeat._

And woke up alone.

*

It was after noon when Holtz dragged herself out of bed to shower. The firehouse was menacingly quiet; it seemed to close in on her from all sides. Quelling her rising panic, she rushed into the stream of hot water. Maybe if she washed last night off her body it wouldn’t hurt so much. It still did. Tears burned her eyes as she brushed her teeth twice. Robotically pinned her hair back up. Slid on an uncharacteristically normal outfit. She’d done more crying in the past few hours than she had in the past few years.

That’s what she gets for her weakness, for falling in love.

 _You’re reckless, Jillian_.

“Yes,” she told her reflection. _I am._

She didn’t slide down the firepole; she could feel Patty’s eyes on hers, reading her body language, traveling up her outfit. She didn’t have to lift her eyes to see the taller woman’s expression.

“Holtzy, what’s up? Are those…jeans? And matching socks?”

“Not much, Pattycakes. Just didn’t have any of the fun things clean.”

“You can’t lie to Patty,” she warned, putting her book down on the coffee table and walking over to her. Holtz wondered briefly what she was reading. The busts had slackened quite a bit since they saved the city, and Patty, ever the voracious reader, always had a stack of To Be Reads these days.

Her friend’s hands on her shoulders steadied her, and she chanced a glance up to meet her eyes. Patty shook her head and pulled her into a hug. She liked this. The ease of their friendship. The way Patty could translate her silence but never brought attention to the shaky harsh breaths. She didn’t ask what was wrong. Maybe she knew, maybe she didn’t, but right then Holtz was thankful she didn’t ask. She didn’t want to answer any questions, just wanted to forget who Jillian was, all soft words and a weak heart.

She saw Erin round the corner looking as put together as she had in the early days of their friendship, watched her eyes immediately leave hers. What changed? What changed in between Erin’s pounding heart and gentle moans to the moment she slipped out of Jillian’s bed?

“Good afternoon, Holtzmann,” Erin said evenly.

Back to Holtzmann now after she called her Jillian in the softest moments. She was Jillian last night when she loved her and the world was dark, but now that the sun was up she was Holtzmann? It sounded so cold now coming from Erin. Clinical. Sterile.

Cold.

 _And good afternoon_! Good afternoon. Like she hadn’t yielded under Jillian’s awe-struck hands in the early hours of the morning, hadn’t sighed under her body or tangled her fingers in Jillian’s hair when she pressed loving kisses against her thighs. Like she hadn’t taken her hands and coaxed her apart until Holtz became Jillian, vulnerable and naked and nervous in front of a woman like she’d never quite been before. Like she hadn’t touched Jillian like she was beautiful, loved, safe. Like she hadn’t whispered “I love you” in the dim glow of the moon a small Jillian had built with her grandfather. Like nothing happened and she hadn’t left.

Her hurt turned to anger in her mouth, and she broke free from Patty’s embrace with a mumbled “Need air.” Snatching her jacket from the couch she rushed out the door into the cold New York air. The city around her bustled and moved, living and murmuring. She turned to see Erin’s face at the window. Her breath fogged the glass, and she couldn’t read the expression on the physicist’s face. Giving her a halfhearted two-finger salute, Jillian Holtzmann slipped into the stream of people and disappeared into the crowd.


	2. Too Much Space Between You and Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a few time skips so we can begin to get to some more juicy angst in the third chapter where the bulk of the story I have in mind actually begins. Thank you guys for all the kudos and the comments so far. You're all amazing. As always, I hope you enjoy.

“Talk to her please, Holtz, for the love of God,” Abby begged a few days of silence and chilled conversations later.

“Why do _I_ have to be the one to talk to _her_?” she demanded. She stripped the wires furiously, carelessly, as bits and pieces flew everywhere.

“It’s not fair on you, I know it isn’t,” she sighed, putting a hand on hers to stop her jerky movements. “Can you… She won’t talk to me.”

“Really,” Holtz said dryly. “Can’t imagine her giving anyone the silent treatment.”

“Holtzmann.”

“Abigail.”

The other woman sighed, pushing her glasses up out of habit.

“I don’t want this to end this. I don’t want our family to break up; it’s the only one some of us have, Jillian. You know this.”

She nodded and eased her hand from under Abby’s. “I’ll think about it, I can’t promise you anything. She really fucked me up, Abby.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she said. “Just think about it okay? That’s all I’ll ask of you.”

Holtz gave her a quick smile. Before Abby left the lab, she turned and looked at her with serious eyes for a moment. “Hey Holtz?”

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you right?” Abby asked tentatively. “You’re the little sister I didn’t want, but you know, I really want you to stick around.”

This time she did laugh; it came easily and for a moment the weight on her heart was lifted.

“Love you too, Abs. Get to work,” she ordered playfully.

She’d have to talk to Erin; she knew she did, or she at least had to try. She wondered if Erin spent her nights sitting on her bed reliving every moment, every touch, every whisper, like she did. Did she remember that she told Jillian she loved her? Did a million questions run through her head every moment? Could Erin get the smell of her sheets off of her as easily as she slipped out of her bed? Holtz turned her music up just a bit louder. Maybe it would drown out all those thoughts. That line of questioning wouldn’t change a thing.

*

Erin was rinsing dishes and loading them in the dishwasher when Holtz found her. Patty and Abby had gone for the night. They didn’t usually stay, Holtz was the only one who lived at the firehouse full-time, but they each had a room just in case. Erin had been staying more often than not in the past few months. But now? Who knows.

The soft light over the sink gave Erin an ethereal outline, glowing on the edges, inviting. In another timeline maybe she could have gone up behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist, dropped a kiss to her shoulder, heard her giggle softly. In another timeline.

“Erin,” she called softly. She cursed how weak her voice sounded.

Erin dropped the plate she’d been rinsing, shattering the silence, shattering the illusion and what ifs. Holtz took a step forward. The physicist’s shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn, only put her hands on the counter and looked up like she was praying to someone to save her. Whatever gods she was begging didn’t hear her, or at least Holtz didn’t give them the chance to.

“Erin,” she said again, stronger.

Her shoulders dropped and she turned to face her with a resigned look on her face.

“Are we… Are we going to talk about this?”

“Talk about what, Holtzmann?” Erin asked tiredly. It felt like a punch in the gut, and she couldn’t help the way her jaw fell open.

“Are you serious right now, Gilbert?” she demanded. “After I told you that I-”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? You telling me you were lying, faking? What, Erin?” Her heart was in her throat, stomach at her feet. Of all the ways she imagined this conversation going, this was not one of them.

“Look, Holtz, it was just a thing. Between friends.”

“What…?” Jillian whispered brokenly. “How can you say that? How could you-?”

Her eyes burned and blurred, and before she could even take a breath, hot tears were falling down her face. Erin took a step forward. Holtz looked up at her wildly, taking a step back and angrily brushing her tears away as fast as they came. The taller woman looked like she wanted to reach out. Her hands twitched but stayed firmly at her side, dangling uselessly, which only made Holtz angrier.

“Why? Can you just tell me why? I deserve that much; I gave you _every_ part of me.”

Erin shook her head, not meeting her gaze.

“Can we just forget this ever happened?” Erin asked quietly. “Just go back to being friends?”

Jillian shattered in a thousand pieces. She was in dull fragments spread out on the dirty floor as Erin looked at her with those eyes and threw her feelings, their feelings, in her face. Her lungs tightened. It felt like the very life was draining from her, like she would be the next ghost the team would have to bust. Jillian broke, and Holtz stepped forward. Erin wanted to forget it ever happened so she would lock Jillian away with her broken heart and fragile dreams and soft edges.

“Jillian…?”

“Holtz,” she said, shaking her head. “Not Jillian, not for you.”

Erin finally looked shocked, like she _felt_ something. For a second there was a fleeting moment of hope but she quashed it down quickly. _You’re being reckless, Jillian_. She watched with some sort of pleasure as sick as it was as Erin opened and shut her mouth, helpless. She knew it was twisted and cruel and awful, and she knew she would come to regret it when she locked herself in her room later and the tears fell again.

“Holtz,” Erin said quietly, like it hurt, like it was strange and unfamiliar and cold in her mouth.

“Friends,” she agreed coldly. “But not tonight and not tomorrow. I can’t.”

Erin nodded, and Holtz turned to leave. In one last moment of vulnerability she stopped and looked into Erin’s eyes again. She could feel the tears building, the lump in her throat, the way she seemed to be shaking. How had things come to this? Her best friend, the one person who knew her better than anyone, who hugged her with abandon, who never once ran from who she was until a few days ago, looked like a stranger then.

“You broke my heart, Erin, in a way only you could.”

And Holtz went upstairs, ignoring the sharp intake of breath in the kitchen, ignoring the choked sob of the woman who left first.

*

“Jill, I mean Holtz?” Erin corrected herself hastily.

Holtz jerked up at the sound of her name; her head had been sinking slowly toward her cup of now lukewarm tea. For a second she forgot everything and smiled brightly at Erin’s voice. She caught herself quickly and dimmed her smile, watching Erin’s face fall with feigned disinterest.

Truthfully she was tired, so tired of everything. Pretending. Distancing herself. She was hurt, pissed, blindsided still but she missed her friend. It felt like a piece of her was missing. The lab was too quiet. She could see Erin from the corner of her eye during the work day, the distance between them growing by the day. Abby and Patty were great, amazing, but she missed the way Erin could sit in the same room saying nothing and it be comfortable. The way Erin’s lips quirked up when she got out the fire extinguisher instead of Patty’s “Holtzy, what the hell, man?” and Abby’s sigh of thinly veiled irritation.

She hurt still, so much, but God couldn’t she try? It’d been weeks now. She couldn’t forget their night together, she wouldn’t, but she could at least try to bridge that gap a little. Erin had been trying. Weeks of being cold and distance hadn’t healed her heart. Hadn’t made her feel even the slightest bit better. She couldn’t forgive Erin quite yet either; they both knew that, but she really wanted that friendship back. As much as she could allow herself right now anyway.

“Are you- I mean, I didn’t want you to- you know,” the physicist said awkwardly, gesturing between Holtz and the mug.

“Yeah, thanks Gilbert,” Holtz yawned. “Time is it?”

“Just after seven,” Erin paused. “Did you sleep last night?”

She looked at her with a loaded gaze. “No, not really.”

Erin nodded and murmured something to the effect of “oh” before she fumbled with the coffee maker, hands pushing buttons clumsily. She blew a frustrated breath when it still wasn’t functioning; Holtz hated how endearing she found it. The engineer slid of the stool and held up the cord that wasn’t plugged in. Erin visibly deflated.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the cord to plug it in. Their hands brushed, eyes immediately finding each other.

The moment was tense, charged with the whirlwind of emotions bubbling up. Jillian blew out a breath and grabbed Erin’s hand lightly, ignoring the way the blush creeping up the other woman’s face. She didn’t slip her fingers in between the physicist’s; she was definitely not there yet. It was an olive branch of sorts. She watched tears collect at the corners of Erin’s eyes. It took everything to not reach up and wipe them away, but _baby steps_ she told herself.

“Friends, okay?” Holtz said softly.

“Yeah,” Erin half-sobbed, half-laughed. “Friends.”


	3. I Can't Make You Love Me (If You Don't)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all of your kind comments and kudos. You're all beautiful souls. XO

Sunday mornings had always been her favorite. Ever since she was a child most Sundays began with a mouthwatering breakfast. It was true she forgot to eat during the work week and sometimes on Saturdays too if her work spilled in to her weekend, but Sundays? Sundays were meant for breakfast. Sausage links sizzled in one pan, bacon spitting in another. In her old apartment’s tiny kitchen there was always a mess because she enjoyed cooking, hated the cleanup. There had been so many dirty aprons she’d had to repurpose for grease rags because there was just no saving them any other way. She wasn’t like that at the firehouse though, and here lately she wanted to clean everything quickly after she messed them up. Start the next time in a good place.

She hummed lightly to one of her grandfather’s favorite songs as she separated the yolk from the white. The yolks would be a custard, but for now she covered them in a little cold water and put them away in the refrigerator next to a carafe of orange juice she’d squeezed earlier. The vegetables she’d gotten from the farmer’s market were already chopped and diced. Time to make the omelet. French toast. 

The sizzling of the pan masked the footsteps behind her. When Erin cleared her throat lightly Jillian nearly tossed the omelet to the ceiling. Her heart raced, adrenaline on high.

“Jesus Erin!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the other woman said sheepishly.

“I didn’t know you slept over here,” Holtz said. The lightness of her tone was forced; how had she missed it?

Erin walked closer to her, studying the way Jillian expertly flipped the food. Her pounding heart betrayed her. Jillian prayed to whatever gods there were or may be that Erin couldn’t hear, couldn’t see the way her pulse beat against her skin. Curious fingers tugged at the knot of her apron and her heart threatened to stop all together. _One problem for another_.

“This is surprising,” Erin noted as she released the apron strings.

“Why?” Holtz asked, her eyes still on the omelet.

She could feel Erin shrug behind her. She was that close. _Shit_.

“There’s a lot of food,” she said slowly, “so would you want some?” 

“Absolutely,” the physicist answered, eager. “Can I help with anything?”

“Two of the square plates and some glasses if you don’t mind.”

Jillian expertly plated their breakfasts, sprinkled a healthy amount of powdered sugar on their French toasts, and poured the juice. _Take that, Food Network!_ She undid her apron, content to let it fall temporarily to the ground, when Erin tugged it from around her waist. Jillian looked at her in confusion. The light dusting of pink on Erin’s cheeks spread to the tips of her ears. _Cute, God, so cute._ She felt the tell-tale squeeze of her lungs as Erin folded the apron neatly and placed it on the countertop.

A moment later they were seated across from each other on the small bistro table Jillian put by one of the windows in the kitchen. No one usually sat here to eat, content to crowd around the coffee table in the living area or at the bigger family table in the dining room. Jillian took her coffee here, breakfasts, sometimes dessert if she was feeling particularly broody. But now. Now she was here across from Erin, their hands nearly touching on the small surface. Sunday’s lazy sunlight streamed in through the window. Erin glowed in a way that made her seem impossible to touch, as if she would vanish if Jillian reached out to touch her.

Jillian cleared her throat when she noticed Erin’s impossibly blue eyes locked on hers.

“Uh. Dig in.”

Her fingers did an awkward dance with her silverware at first. Ugh. Did Erin notice her sudden nerves? Would she comment? Or would this all just be ignored? She didn’t know what she hoped most for so she pushed her thoughts aside as the French toast melted on her tongue. She guessed it did the same for Erin because her tiny moan sent Jillian ablaze, her eyes immediately snapping on Erin’s face. Her eyes were closed, head tilted back slightly. The column of her throat seemed so inviting…

_Jillian placed soft kisses on her throat, falling more in love with every moan that vibrated against her lips. She felt Erin’s heart pounding under her tongue. Erin’s long fingers pulled her closer, grasped at her hips, her side, her back, as she sucked lightly. The way she arched her back underneath her. The warmth of her skin, her body against hers. The holiest of experiences. She found herself praying_ Dear God, dear God, please let this moment last forever. _Erin tugged at her hair and Jillian was lost, spiraling somewhere among the stars, universes flying past her in blurs of cosmic color._

“Good?” Jillian asked, wincing at her traitorous low voice.

“Amazing. Wow, I- I just never pictured you like this,” murmured Erin as she cut up a sausage link with her fork and knife. _Cute_.

“Like what?”

“So chef-like and brilliant at cooking,” she smiled. “Seriously Jillian, just wow.”

Desperate to hide her blush she mumbled a grateful thanks and gulped down some of her juice. Erin flipped through the paper after she’d finished, the empty plate winking up at Jillian. She’d full-on laughed when Erin threw her reserved demeanor out of the window and licked the syrup and powdered sugar mixture from the plate. Erin just shrugged, embarrassed. Jillian took in the moment. It was all so very domestic. Her cooking breakfast for both of them at a cozy bistro table. Erin reading the paper when she was finished. Jillian memorizing the way the light hit her face. It could have been. Damn it, it should have been. The sudden onslaught of emotion caused her to grip the fork with white knuckled strength. She looked out the window instead.

From here the cars went by, people walked with a purpose past. There were all these people with all these lives going at once, overlapping with her own in this one fleeting moment. She glanced back at Erin. Her eyes roamed her face. The way her mouth ticked up when she read something interesting, her eyes following the words, nose wrinkling when she read something she found moronic. Maybe the Opinions section? Was that what that night was? A fleeting moment of overlapping stories? Some enormous pool of feelings and emotions and love that had been pulled taut enough to erupt? Maybe.

But she still loved her. Was still _in love_ with her.

Quietly she grabbed their plates and headed back to the sink.

“Thank you, Jill,” Erin said quietly, eyes traveling up to meet hers. “If you leave those I’ll rinse them when I’m done.”

“I got it,” she winked. “You just sit there and relax.”

Erin blushed again, hiding her face in the pages of the newspaper. She doubted she was even reading it anymore. _Could have._ This could have been normal. A new Sunday routine. Erin kept stealing glances when she thought Holtz wouldn’t notice. She did. She always would.

_Should have._


	4. Mine Is Not a New Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments and kudos, lovely people. It keeps me going with this story, keeps inspiring me to keep writing. Thank you! XO

Patty’s face was scrunched up in distaste as she surveyed Holtzmann’s new experiment. She had been messing around with the remains of Erin’s near constant ectoprojection scenes to see if she could find any usable source of energy. Maybe make it glow a different color. Blue perhaps. Right now it was in a gigantic chamber that looked not unlike cryogenic chambers in sci fi flicks. Inspiration was everywhere. A particularly solid knock to the side of it sent the ooze sloshing. Patty groaned, holding her stomach like she was going to be sick at any minute.

“You’re insane, you know that?” she asked Holtzmann before she stalked out of the lab. “I’m going home.”

“Aw, don’t you want to tell me how smart I am, Pattycakes?” she teased her friend.

“Uh uh,” Patty yelled from downstairs. “You stay in there with your goo-thing.”

She laughed to herself and patted the sides of the chamber once more. The work day had been slow. Really all she’d done was watch the goo do its thing, making notes, and wondering what would happen if she recreated a Nickelodeon thing with it. Slime.

“Hey Holtz, you in there?”

Abby was still here? She pushed her glasses up into her hair and hastily perched back on her stool as if she hadn’t been planning a game show. She’d just opened a book when Abby came in. Her face looked suspicious to Holtz, the kind of suspicious that meant she was coming in with bad news.

“I need to tell you something you’re not going to like,” Abby said quietly.

She took in the pinched look, the way her hands clenched at her sides, the nervous tick of her lips. Even when they were ran out of their first conference she hadn’t had that look when she told Holtzmann they’d earned a lifetime ban. Maybe not even when she had a mini version of the CERN incident in their second lab. Abby’s hair took a while to grow back. Holtzmann was pretty sure she still had a scar on her ass.

“Do you remember what you said to me the day I burned your hair off?” she asked suddenly. Whatever news Abby had, she probably didn’t want to hear it.

“Which time?” Abby chucked, taking a seat at Holtz’s work bench.

“The second lab. The very large poof with the very large fireball.”

“Ah. I remember that day vividly, sometimes even when I’m sleeping. What did I say?” Abby was looking at her curiously now.

“I was hoping you’d remember,” she forced a grin, “because I have a feeling I am going to need whatever profound wisdom you bestowed on me in the next few minutes.”

Abby nervously dug her nails into the yielding wood of the table. Jillian’s heart leapt in her throat, her own anxiety rising. Every moment of fear and pessimism was justified the moment the words left Abby’s lips, and it looked like it physically pained her friend to tell her. Jillian fought back tears as Abby pulled her into a rare tight hug. Thankfully Abby grounded her in that moment, tied her to an earth she felt was spinning far too fast and far too out of control.

“Do you need me to stay tonight?” asked Abby full of concern.

“No, it’s okay, I was going to go play pool,” she replied hoarsely. The words hurt her throat. Scratched. Like glass.

“Call me if you need me okay? You make me that damn promise right now, Jillian Holtzmann.”

“Abby,” she whispered quietly, “you’ll be the first I call.”

Barely satisfied Abby left, and Jillian felt the roar of the world come rushing back. Her brain felt like it was pushing against her skull. Her heart was somewhere else entirely. A hell dimension. She knew those existed now; what a fitting place for it.

*

The music pounded. Her body writhed to the music as the alcohol coursed through her system; the lights around her pulsed and blurred. Some woman’s hand was squeezing her hip, the other traveling up her stomach. She didn’t have the energy to shrug it off, to pull away. Why should she? Wasn’t this all she was good for? Sex? A one night stand? She was nothing to write home about, right?

She turned to look at the woman. Her eyes were hazel, bordering on blue, framed by light brown hair. Freckles dusted her cheeks. She was attractive but familiar. Too familiar. She looked like the very reason she found herself at the bar tossing drinks back like they were water. The woman pulled her into a kiss but she couldn’t reciprocate.

“Sorry,” Holtz mumbled, rushing out of the shrinking room and pressing crowd.

Panic settled in her chest even after she made it outside and leaned against the cold brick wall with her head hanging between her legs. All attempts to reorient herself failed. Cabs blurred and swayed and doubled, honked and beeped and screamed. Home. She had to get home.

Ten minutes of halfhearted attempts at hailing a cab later, she sat in the backseat of one that smelled like too-strong air freshener and a locker room. Her stomach was already tumbling. It took every ounce of willpower she had left not to vomit in a cab. This night already went to shit, and she didn’t need another reason to feel the burning shame she already felt.

She rested her head against the filthy window, watching the streets of New York pass by. A few snow flurries drifted by. No matter how she felt she would never stop being amazing she lived her, a small time kid with huge dreams that actually got almost everything she wanted. There was just that one thing. She pressed her forehead harder against the cold glass, but tears fell hotly down her burning cheeks. Too drunk for this, she was too drunk for this shit.

“Thanks,” she said hastily as she paid him and stumbled into the firehouse.

It was quiet. She clumsily kicked off her shoes in the doorway and threw her keys down somewhere on the couch. A surprised yelp scared her she stumbled back against the door. There would be a bruise where the knob hit her tomorrow probably. Erin switched on the lamp and looked hard at her. Jillian knew what she saw. Glassy eyes, smudged eyeliner, a light hickey on her neck. Shamefaced, broken, tear tracked cheeks.

“Jillian,” she gasped, going over to help her shrug out of her jacket. “What- Are you okay?”

“’M fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“So ‘m not fine, what can you do ‘bout it?” Jillian demanded. “Nothin’ y’can.”

“Let’s get you to bed, Jill,” Erin coaxed gently.

The taller woman put her arms around her waist and helped her up to the third floor bedrooms. She whispered soothing words in her ear as she handed her a shirt, turned around while she changed, helped her out of the tight jeans. Now she was perched on the edge of the bed looking at Jillian who was crying silently again. The blonde cursed herself. Stupid emotions. Stupid love. God. Damn it.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I wanna sleep.”

“Holtzy. Jillian…,” Erin began again. “Please.”

“Not now, Erin,” she sighed. “Not the time a’the moment.”

The physicist nodded and pressed a heartbreakingly sweet kiss against her forehead. With a final “let me know if you need anything,” Erin slipped out of her room to go to hers. As the door closed, Jillian felt her heart break all over again. She let out a choked sob. The artificial moon blurred and blinked in and out in front of her. Abby’s words flashed through her head just before she passed out.

_Erin has a boyfriend._


	5. Miserable at Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been away for so long, guys! I'm teaching an English college class this semester and writing a thesis so it's already been insane. Hopefully I won't go as long between chapters again.
> 
> Anyway, here's the next installment! Thank you for reading, your kudos, and your comments. XOXO

She watched her laugh, head tilted down just a bit, eyes not meeting his, but still she was laughing. The air suddenly tasted bitter, or maybe that was just her. He was handsome, she guessed, in a kind of nerdy way. His brown hair was wavy, and his eyes were a dark deep brown that she couldn’t compete with. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t compete anyway. He was handsome, charming, funny, smart, and completely sweet to Erin. Made her laugh. Jillian was a danger to herself and everyone around her, on the brink of nuclear disaster at any given moment, wild, too loud, too overt, too physical, too eager, too… just too much. There was no competition, there never was.

Part of her wished she somehow could have had the foresight to keep a place on the side so she could escape the firehouse on Date Night. She had to share the same building as Erin’s light giggles, his deep rumbling voice, the clink of silverware against dishes. Earlier she’d gone to get a bowl of cold lo mein from the refrigerator. That’s when she saw it.

Erin was curled into his side as they browsed Netflix. She’d bitterly wondered if his cologne smelled better than hers, less cheap. Were his clothes softer? Did he dance?

In the end Jillian had dropped the paper plate stacked with noodles onto the kitchen floor. It hit with a sickening _thwack!_ that would have been hilariously disgusting if Jillian’s heart hadn’t been shattering once more. Erin immediately sat up and locked eyes with her.

“Shit,” was all she could say while both of them looked at her. The heat of their gazes filled her with the type of shame she hadn’t felt since she was a first grader covering her broken nose with one hand and crumpling a note in the other.

“Jill-”

She had sprinted up the stairs like she was chasing a medal.

Now she was standing in her bedroom pulling outfits hastily out of the closet. She had to get out of here, had to get her mind off this. Jillian just needed to get Holtz back, walk out with the swagger of a champion, and find someone to pass the time with tonight. It would help for probably a grand total of twenty minutes but it was better than nothing.

God, she just wanted to fucking be able to be Erin’s friend. She wanted to be okay and fine and moved on. What was wrong with her? God. What if Erin started to hate her? She couldn’t bear it.

She angrily swiped at a tear and reapplied eyeliner. All out, Holtz, all out.

She matched even down to her socks. Tight black pants and an artfully ripped tank top with a leather jacket slung over her shoulder. Hair pinned perfectly up. She looked hot, angry, and most of all confident. Perfect. Tonight she could definitely get what she was looking for. She slipped her phone in her back pocket and squared her shoulders. Holtz walked out of her bedroom and slid down the fire pole for the first time that day. The high of being the ultimate Holtzmann made her blood pump wildly, and her skin tingled with exhilaration and power.

He must have been in the bathroom or had left to get something because as she strolled toward the door, Erin stood up, her jaw dropping, cheeks flushing. A dusting of pink spread over her chest and up her neck. Holtz was in business now.

“Don’t wait up,” she said in a low, playful voice.

She saw the way Erin swallowed hard, and to put the cherry on top of that Holtzmann sundae, she threw her a saucy wink as she sauntered out the door.

In the briskness of the night, she felt wild and untamed and unstoppable. The first bar she went to was no good. The music was too slow, and half of the patrons looked like they too were nursing a broken heart. The second just didn’t feel right. But the third? The third was where Holtzmann found solace.

Somewhere in between the shots and mixed drinks Holtzmann lost track of where she was. What she was doing. The only thing she could register was “perfect.” She took comfort in a stranger’s soft lips, the slightly salty taste of the other woman’s neck, the warmth of her body. Holtz burrowed into her, coaxing her to climax, and pressing a simple kiss against her forehead. As the sun begin to creep up on New York, she placed the woman’s bottle of aspirin next to the bed with a bottle of water just in case then slipped out in the cold streets.

Her breath fogged in the early morning, and she shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket. She should have brought something warmer. It was too late now. The closer she walked to the firehouse, the more Holtz melted back in to Jillian. As soon as her fingers slid the key into the door, there she was. Tired, broken, feeling like shit. Probably smelling like stale alcohol and sex too.

Though she’d told Erin not to wait up as a joke, she was sitting on the chair nearest to the door when she got home. The bags under her eyes were prominent as the sunlight streamed in through the windows to fall on her face. Erin struggled with words for a moment, taking in the way Jillian’s hair was only half up now, her tank top now less artfully ripped, the hickey on her chest.

“You didn’t call,” Erin said softly.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Jillian repeated dumbly. Something like frustration, maybe anger, burned at her throat. “Why didn’t I call you to tell you I wasn’t coming home last night? I told you not to wait up.”

“I know, I-” Erin broke off, fingers twisting nervously in the blanket draped over her lap.

“Where’s Marcus?”

“At home I guess; he left around two thirty.”

Jillian hummed as she grabbed a hoodie from the back of the couch, turning from Erin as she stripped off her tank top to slip into it. It already smelled of smoke and grease; a little sweat and alcohol wouldn’t hurt it too much more. She felt Erin’s eyes on her.

“Did you have… a good time?” Erin asked in a small voice.

“It was okay.”

“Did you-?”

“Did I what, Erin?” she snapped suddenly, irritation taking over. “Did I what?”

“It’s none of my business,” Erin said quietly.

“No, I guess it isn’t,” Jillian bit back, leaving Erin to watch her storm upstairs.

Whatever kind of relief she felt last night in the heat of the moment vanished. She was angry. Angry at Erin for acting like a jealous girlfriend. Angry at Erin for abandoning her at her most vulnerable moment. Angry at Erin for pretending. Angry at Marcus for being her boyfriend. But mostly angry and disgusted with herself for still being so stupidly, painfully in love with Erin fucking Gilbert.

It’d been months, and still she was miserable at best.


End file.
